


the long grass of routine

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Private Detectives, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Multi, i don't really know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a young woman stood in front of her future with two suitcases and a rusted paint can (private detective au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Éponine had spent half her life working towards that day; she smiled absently as she gazed around her (her!) sparse office, her furniture worn and aching, footsteps stretching into years past pressed into her carpet.

The room faced onto a shaded alley, the door didn’t always lock right and she was certain she’d seen needles littered on the ground outside, but she paid for the room upfront and it was hers, for as long as she wanted it. Which would probably be forever.

Her vague smile stretched for a moment into a genuine, happy grin as she finished painting the sign she planned to rest on the wall facing the street. Hopefully her rates, at least, were going to attract clients before she could gain another reputation for good work.

—————————————

Her optimism paid off in surprising ways.

A few days after she’d set up, their was a sudden knock on her door. Éponine quickly glanced around, making sure nothing of value was visible.

“Come in!”

The door opened slowly, and what Éponine hoped was her first client stepped in. The woman was gorgeous, blonde hair curled into a tight bun at the back of her head and green eyes set in a clear, kind face. Éponine used to dream of women like this.

She leaned forward behind her desk. “So, do you need anything? I gotta warn you, the bathroom’s not a nice place for a lady like you.” She grinned, hoping it looked rakish and not like she was struggling to keep from kissing her newest client senseless.

The woman laughed. “No, I was actually here to see the detective - I assume that’s you?” She sat on the chair opposite Éponine, giving no reaction to the prolonged groan it made at having to bear weight. “I do have a problem actually - my father’s gone.”

Éponine raised her eyebrows. “Not that I want to drive you away, but shouldn’t you go to the police for that?”

“No, it’s a bit complicated for that, I’m afraid.” She looked up at Éponine, her eyelashes seeming impossibly long. “My father is, well, he wasn’t really meant to look after me - I never got the full story, but I do remember living with a different family when I was a lot younger.”

“Good enough reason to come see me, I s’pose. Oh, for the record - what’s the magic disappearing man’s name?” She smiled again. It wasn’t often she got to talk to anyone, let alone someone as genuinely good as this woman seemed to be.

“Oh!” The woman blushed slightly. “I completely forgot, I’m sorry. My father’s name is- well, he went by Ultime, but I’ve found out his real name is Jean Valjean. I’m Cosette.”

“Well, Mademoiselle,” said Éponine, already thinking of which favours to call in. “I think we can manage that.”

Cosette smiled, then leant in and swiftly kissed Éponine’s cheek. “Thank you so much!” She sobered a little. “Although I must warn you - my father had enemies, I believe. There was one man who followed us for months.”

“Don't worry,” said Éponine with a sly grin. Her own parents hadn't been short of those. “I'm used to enemies.”

—————————————

Éponine was still in a daze at receiving Cosette’s phone number - for strictly professional purposes, of course, but still - when her second client ambles into her life.  
It’s almost unfair to other people, really, how many attractive people she’s keeping from the city’s more legal detective agencies.

Marius Pontmercy knocked timidly on the door to her office half an hour after Cosette drifted out, having stayed for instant coffee and a biscuit when offered. He clearly didn't want to be there – Éponine was no Holmes, but his slow, uneasy walk through the door told her everything she needed to know.

“Look,” he said, scuffing one foot back and forth on the carpet, “I'd like to find out about- about my father, but I didn't plan on coming here, I was just walking past and-”

Éponine silenced him with a finger to her lips. “I understand, Monsieur, you don't need to explain any further. Your name and your phone number are all I'll need, if you decide to engage my services.” She winked at him, hoping he picked up the double entendre. His blush seemed to indicate he did. “oh, and your father's details, of course. Anything you think would assist in finding him.”

God, thought Éponine, why is it always the innocent ones I have to fall for?

“I've forgotten my manners, I'm so sorry, Mademoiselle. I'm Marius Pontmercy,” he said, offering a hand to shake.

“Pontmercy, huh? Aren't you Gillenormande's grandson?” She vaguely remembered seeing a boy with the same bashful face in an article a few years ago. The mayor of the city was fairly popular, but Éponine had her doubts. Hopefully his grandson would be as good inside as he was good looking on the outside.

Marius remained scarlet. “Um, yes, but we don't really speak anymore... I think I disappointed him when I went for social science instead of law- oh, you don't want to hear this.” He straightened up, and she noticed just how tall he was. The day was going unfairly well, really.

He scribbled what she assumed was his phone number on the notepad sat on her desk, gave her a polite but hurried goodbye and ran out of the door.

Éponine sighed. He really was very sweet.

—————————————

She started the investigation the very next day, deciding to walk to the library a few streets away. The variety of books was terrible but they did have the newspaper library to look through, and hopefully Ursule Fauchelevant, né Jean Valjean, would be in one of them.

A hand reached out from the mouth of an alleyway, but before it could take her purse Eponine turned around sharply and held a switchblade to the offending wrist.

“Montparnasse, I know it’s you. Come out where I can see you, or you’ll bleed to death without ever seeing an honest day in your life.” She said flatly, pressing the blade closer, coaxing beads of red from his neck. It was a familiar dance.

Montparnasse slid out, smiling (mouth-only), and blew her a kiss from cherry red lips. Eponine caught it between the fingers of her free hand, then crushed it in a fist. “What’re you even doin’ round here, ‘Ponine, there’s bad people about - worse’n me, even.”

She folded her arms across her chest, the switchblade disappearing as quickly as it had threatened. “I need info - and you owe me a favour, pretty boy.” She smiled too, the corners of her mouth pulling a little too far back, like a shark that smells blood in the water. “What do you know about a little man named Jean Valjean?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some developments, good and not so good

Éponine had been gathering information on both cases for a few days, the office floor a mess of articles and photos, when a knock came on the door.

Knowing it couldn't be either of her clients, both of them being out of the city until the next week, she walked to the door and opened it promptly rather than welcoming them in. She'd had issues in her previous location with unwelcome people barging in uninvited. It'd taken days to get the blood out of the carpet after Montparnasses' visits. Not all of it was his.

There'd been a man standing out side the door, leaning heavily on crutches. One of his feet was wrapped tightly in a plaster cast, while the other wears a worn out leather shoe. His clothes are in a similar state, not really threadbare but clearly past their prime, and his face- well. That's the interesting part.

“Good evenin', Monsieur. Ex-commissioner Javert, if I'm not mistaken. D'you fancy some coffee?”

\-------------------

Javert is soon installed on the comfiest chair Éponine can offer – the one used for clients, with the deflated cushion and less punishing back – with a cup of instant coffee and a determined look on his face.

Once Éponine had sat on her own chair, keeping the desk between them, she asked what he was doing there. A reasonable enough question, she thought, and his utter failure to answer was surprising.

She looked more closely at him, and realises his look of determination is in part him deciding what he wants to say – how to word what is evidently a serious confession of some kind.

Instead, she devoted herself to waiting, because that's what she'd trained herself to do for most of her life and it was a skill she didn't want to waste.

They've been sat in those positions for half an hour when Javert cracks. He stands, taking to pacing on already worn out carpet.  
“Well, Mademoiselle, I do not need to introduce myself – a weight off my shoulders. My disgrace is something of a sore subject, but I believe I may be of some assistance to your investigation.” He sighed, his stiff posture loosening once more.

Éponine leant forward. “Well, Monsieur? I may have all day but I'd prefer not to spend all of it breathless with suspense.”

Javert's face remained serious. Éponine was wasted on some people. “I have heard tell that you're looking for a man named Jean Valjean. I believe I may be able to assist you on that front.”

Éponine raised her eyebrows. “What makes you think that? Has the great man been dallyin' with the criminal world again?” 

Javert's fall from grace was fascinating to her – the recently promoted commissioner had been caught up in a prostitution scandal. Not that he'd been visiting them (Éponine was fairly sure Javert, assuming he ever had sex – which she did not want to think about – wouldn't pay for it), but that he'd arrested a woman of the street years before without provocation and in fact when faced with evidence that she wasn't guilty of the assault he charged her with. Normally it wouldn't have been enough to cause such disgrace, but it was soon discovered that it had been more than one woman.

There was an uproar, and Javert resigned to avoid a prolonged controversy.

Javert gave her a pained look, his stoicism dropping for a second. “No- well, that is yes, but not in the way that you might expect, and I would hope to remain only as tarnished as I am currently.” He took a deep breath. “Jean Valjean is a criminal I apprehended many years ago, who escaped prison. In truth I do not wish to discuss it, but I did find him again recently. After my resignation.”

The detective was intrigued. “Was this recent? Cose- Mme. Fauchelevent informed me she hadn't seen her father in a month.”

“It was, let me see – yes, I believe it was the fourth of this month.” He said this with a nod, as if assuring himself. Éponine found herself staring at the cast on his foot before she collected herself.

That day was the tenth. This was a real lead. 

“It's good to hear that, Monsieur, although of course I should admonish you for not reporting it via proper channels.” She grinned, showing her teeth. It wasn't as funny as she thought it was.

\----------------

Javert left after another hour of questioning by Éponine. Now that she had a lead she was going to follow it as far as she could, her process being effective but not particularly refined.

She wrestled with the idea of inviting Cosette to discuss the case so far, and eventually gave into the temptation, texting her a short message asking if she wanted coffee and information. Having done so, Éponine dug into what she had been able to find about Georges Pontmercy. There wasn't much, but she wanted to please both of her clients, even if one of the cases had proved more easily investigated. Playing favourites never worked out well.

Maybe she'd invite Marius over once she'd found out a little more. Tucking away that delightful possibility for the next day, she resumed her work on the papers spread over the desk.

The soft knock on her door took her by surprise, making her flinch, but then she realised that two hours has passed and Cosette had arrived. The thought made her smile widely, and she rushed to the door.

Cosette was already carrying coffee, and Éponine would have kissed her for that had she not recognised the man behind her.  
“Marius, what are you doing here?” she asked, more curiosity edging into her voice than she would've liked.

He shrugged. “Cosette said I should come along, as we are both, um, engaging your services?” He blushed again, but Éponine admired the attempt at a joke and smiled anyway.

“Well, since you're both here, I might as well keep you apprised. I didn't know you two knew each other, is all.” She looked down and felt the smile slide off her face as she saw their joined hands.

It was Cosette that blushed this time. "Yes, it's quite a recent development." Then she smiled up at Marius, and the softness in her gaze made Éponine feel dizzy.

It wasn't unexpected, really. She always fell for the straight girls and unavailable guys, and everything in between and outside what she really wanted – interested.

But, Éponine was a professional, and so she straightened, smiled, and led the two clients over to her desk.

There was work to be done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> resolutions

It'd been two months since Javert visited Éponine's office, and she is no closer to reaching Jean Valjean than she had been on that fateful morning. Fateful, because that was the day she'd found out about Cosette and Marius' relationship, and also the day she'd thrown caution to the wind and continued befriending them anyway.

Sometimes, she'd discovered since then, friendships were just as emotionally satisfying as most of her relationships, although there wasn't really that much to compare it to. But they'd started going to the most local least sleazy coffee shop available and talked about anything and everything while Cosette and Marius help hands under the table. 

Once, when Éponine had been having a particularly stressful week, Marius had called her office and invited her to a sleepover – well, he hadn't actually called it that, but it had ended up with Cosette braiding her hair while she painted Marius' toenails and they watched terrible romantic comedies on Marius' shitty black and white TV, so she supposed that was what it had really been.

Another thing it had been was easy. Éponine wasn't used to feeling comfortable around other people, not since her parents' business ventures had started to go sour and they'd more or less abandoned her to the foster system. Her siblings had fared a little better, thank god, but Gavroche had been difficult for a few years, and she still wasn't certain where exactly Azelma went on the weekends. It was better than having them end up face down in the gutter most days for a year. Éponine had been a lot more wild until she'd hit 23 and decided to settle a little. The cold air in the night had started to seep into her bones.

It might have been easier to ignore how much she'd grown to depend on them if they hadn't been so obviously enthralled with each other. Or if they had started to ignore her altogether, rather than seeming actually invested in their friendship, so much that Éponine had started to doubt whether they really were faking it for her benefit, as she'd thought.

She still felt it, some nights, now that she'd finally broken things off with Montparnasse forever, rather than just the weekdays. Her bed felt empty, and the sheets were freezing from the draft creeping through the single glazed window. She didn't sleep as much.

\-------------------

The next break in the case of Georges Pontmercy arrived suddenly and serendipitously. Éponine had been browsing through the last of the newspapers she'd stolen from the library under cover of classic literature and coffee table art books, and suddenly spotted a familiar name in the obituary section.

“Marius, what was your father's middle name?”

It wasn't a nice way to find the answer, but Marius had already known his father was dead. Knowing where he was buried turned out to be something of a comfort. At least, once Éponine had managed to find the tiny graveyard in the village where Georges had lived.

Marius seemed a lot happier once they'd all piled into Cosette's tiny car and visited, and he'd been able to see just how much of an impact his father had had on the village, with many people happy to tell stories of good deeds Georges had done. Marius went home glowing, and Éponine kept her eyes fixed on the road – he was gorgeous at all times, of course, but especially when he was happy. Crashing the car would probably not improve that situation, no matter how distracting either of her friends could be.

The only snag in their mutual happiness over finding out the fate of the older Pontmercy was that Valjean was still proving impossible to find. No matter how many people Eponine interviewed or how much she pestered Javert via various avenues, she'd only managed to find that he definitely wasn't in Paris. For all she knew, he'd moved to Antarctica and was living with penguins as one of their family.

Knowing Cosette, she wouldn't put it past him.

\--------------------

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

Eponine was visiting her parents for the first time in years, at their more polite than usual request, and so had to leave Paris and drive out to a tiny hamlet 50 miles out. She really hated visiting her parents, but her siblings had finally been taking into foster care, years after she had, and she was a little more ready to talk.

An exhausting few hours after arriving at her parent's house, as dirty as she'd remembered with even more counterfeit goods lying around than she could ever remember there being, she was finally released. Thankfully, they hadn't tried to hug her since she was 14 and had threatened to stab her dad if he ever came near her again.

The break came when she spotted a familiar man across the street from her parents' house, sat on a park bench staring at the trees. He had a shock of white hair, an old coat and a tired face, but Eponine still recognised the man from Cosette's few photos. She'd found Valjean.

She reached instinctively for her phone, then stilled. She should make certain, she thought, and so walked slowly to the bench and sat beside the old man. He glanced across, then went back to gazing at the trees. It was a beautiful afternoon.

“Nice weather we're having.” Eponine said, cringing at the cliché. She needed an in though, and conversation had never come that naturally to her.

The man, Valjean, smiled. “It was awful yesterday, although I'm sure you wouldn't know that Mamselle Parisienne.” Eponine was startled – surely she wasn't that obvious?

Seemingly unfazed, he continued. “What brings you here, anyway? I would have thought a young woman like you would be out with friends, enjoying your youth.”

“Actually,” said Eponine, feeling a spark of anxiety at having to reveal her intentions so soon, “I'm here because of my parents. But talking to you because of your daughter.”

His reaction was instant – his shoulders hunched slightly, and a shadow fell across his face.

She continued. “Doesn't seem very fair of you, abandoning her without a word, Monsieur Fauchelevent. Or Valjean, if we're going to be honest with each other.”

Valjean starts again when he hears her mention his name. “Are you a detective, Mamselle? If so, I hope you know that I am somewhat averse to returning to prison. It disagrees with my digestion.”  
She smiled, despite herself. “I am a detective, Monsieur, but not for the police. Your daughter has hired me to find where you had disappeared to, and now I have found you. What happens now is entirely up to you. I could call your daughter, or I could give her a message – obviously, I would prefer if you spoke to her. It seems she'd be devastated not to hear from you.”

Wordlessly, Valjean nodded, and reached for the phone Éponine held out silently.

The happy shouting she can hear over the phone is payment enough for her services.

\--------------------

Éponine packed up her case notes with a melancholy air, tugging half heartedly at the eternally jammed drawer of her filing cabinet before collapsing into her desk chair with a sigh. She wasn't looking forward to the end of this case, but she knew she'd have to pack up eventually, and that meant she'd have to say goodbye to seeing Cosette and Marius with any regularity.

She wasn't used to having friends, and she was even less used to losing them.

The soft knock on the door was by then familiar, and Éponine barely restrained herself from leaping across the room to open the door. She loved seeing them, but this time was going to hurt, she could tell.

Marius smiled at her when she opened the door, and Cosette leapt forward to hug her, squeezing her ribcage enough to make Éponine wince. Cosette was enthusiastic in all things.

“I was just going to call you,” Éponine said, gesturing to the rotary telephone sat desolately on her desk. The numbers had all been scratched off by Gavroche in a fit of pique so every so often Éponine ended up on the phone for several hours trying to explain that, no, she wasn't actually calling about the wedding. She was fairly certain she'd once managed to cancel a funeral, but she didn't like to think about that too hard.

Cosette smiled up at her, eyes huge and bright. “Don't worry about that – actually, we,” She looked back at Marius, who was holding her hand and smiling. “We had something to ask you.”

Éponine felt hope flutter in her chest, then clamped it down ruthlessly. 

Marius coughed slightly, clearing his throat. “The thing is, we, um, well, I'm not sure how to put it but-”

He trailed off, coughing apologetically. Cosette smiled sympathetically at him, then leaned forward and winked at Éponine. She felt herself blush.

“What Marius meant to say,” Cosette said, turning back to smile sweetly at her boyfriend, “was that we were wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner.”

Éponine stopped short. This was not even vaguely what she'd expected to hear. “What?”

Marius regained his composure, although his cheeks remained faintly, adorably, pink. “We've been talking about this for a little while, and we thought that maybe- would you like to try to date us?” He coughed. “Both of us. At once, um, like a three person relationship.” He stopped, then turned red again. It was really unfair, thought Éponine, how adorable he was.

She smiled, over the pounding in her ears. Her life was ridiculous.

“Yes. I think I'd like that a lot, monsieur. Where do I sign?” Her cheeks hurt from grinning. Cosette tackled her to the ground to hug her. Marius looked confused for a moment, then joined them on the floor.

Éponine couldn't remember, afterwards, exactly when she'd first kissed either of them. Cosette had soft lips, just like she'd imagined. Marius was clumsy, but earnest. It was probably for the best, not knowing, when all she wanted to know was that she had them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun to write but the ending gave me some trouble - i hope you liked it, anyway.
> 
> an epilogue should be up soon, but i do have exams starting so it could be a while. <3

**Author's Note:**

> so this has been festering in my brain for a few days now, having already produced a moderately popular edit over on tumblr by myself, and some positive comments which apparently persuaded me to write it in preference to like, actually revising for my a-levels.  
> priorities.  
> (title from 'you' by carol ann duffy)  
> (hopefully this will be about 4 chapters + an epilogue)


End file.
